I am not the easiest creature to love for those who content themselves with the mere surface of life. Though I possess a certain brightness, I am not always in full glow; like the moon, I endure my phases of shadow, retreating when the weight of fortitude becomes too great to bear.

Yet know this—when wounds trouble thee, though buried deep within, I shall seek them out. My touch shall bear light enough to find them, to soothe them, to weave solace into the ache of thy being with the quiet certainty that knows where comfort is most needed.

And when the gloom of our souls should chance to meet, I shall take your hand and lead you to the river, that we might recall the singular relief of surrendering to forces beyond ourselves. Let the waters move beyond the will of men and strip away the burdens time has fastened upon us, until we are restored to the softness we were never meant to lose.

Then shall we lie among the whispering grass, our eyes cast toward the night sky, where the stars, ever steadfast, shall remind us that even in our trials there is beauty. And so, with hearts quieted and spirits settled, we shall return once more to the earth, assured that we are, in all things, precisely where we ought to be.